


Imagine Me & You

by charcoalscenes



Category: Welcome to Night Vale
Genre: Abuse, Changing Tenses, Flashbacks, Kevin & Carlos in the desert trope, Kevin is horrible, M/M, Mild Gore, No Sex, Non-Consensual Kissing, Non-Consensual Touching, Post-Episode: e049 Old Oak Doors Part B
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-07-13
Updated: 2014-07-13
Packaged: 2018-02-08 16:51:26
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 2
Words: 9,108
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1948839
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/charcoalscenes/pseuds/charcoalscenes
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Carlos’s shoulders only got more knotted when Kevin’s hands began to rub them, so that not even a minute into it, Carlos shook them off. “It’s nice to not feel any tension once in a while,” Kevin purred, speaking for himself.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. only you and i

**Author's Note:**

> Hey, first time posting fics in this website! Please excuse any first-time-user errors, and please enjoy.

~~ **_“_ ** _I_ **_love_ ** _my Strexxpet, Lauren! It is the cutest! I take it for walks, I_ **_throw sticks at it, I tell it my worst secrets_ ** _, I feed it mice every night before bed. …I’ve trained it to!_ **_”_ ** ~~

  
  


* * *

 

The first post was shown to Cecil by a grim-faced Maurine, who later said that it was made around a day before but that everyone felt antsy and regretful about having to eventually show him. Still, it was more strongly felt that he should see it. 

That was days ago. There have been more posts since then, with twelve in all, and the latest having been made two minutes and seventeen seconds ago. Cecil refuses to follow the obnoxious tag Kevin had made for these terrible photos - “ _Kevinlos_ ,” but he still nevertheless, of course, can’t help but check the tag ( _and_ the blog, the only blog that actually _uses_ the tag) sporadically because how can he _not_. How can he _not_ check that webpage when his beloved boyfriend has not much choice but to passively take selfies with someone who, for all intents and purposes, is a _monster_. 

Kevin had held his camera phone far from his face so that Carlos - diligent Carlos - could be seen behind him, sitting cross-legged on the desert sand and crouched over a meter and a notepad, taking down notes with a pen that he probably hadn’t used in the longest time being that pens were banned during the time he was in Night Vale. “still hanging out with my new best friend!!!!!! :)” wasn’t close to the most disgusting caption Kevin had made in the last few days. Cecil is still boiling over that one selfie he’d seen last night when Kevin had placed his _gross_ face too close - almost cheek-to-cheek - to Carlos, and writing, “i think the two of us look GRAND together  <3 <3 ” 

“The show starts in, like, ten minutes,” says Maurine, who Cecil hadn’t heard come in because he was too busy trying to remember the prayers to summon a forbidden deity who he’d read, as a child, would grant the wish of whoever would one day free them, and Cecil has a very specific wish at the moment. “You should calm down or something. Do you want me to hold your phone for you?”

“No, Maurine, no,” he tries to sound gentle and collected. Maurine gives him a Look, the kind she’s been giving more frequently as of late, the kind that tells him that he is being the opposite of professional, which probably means he didn’t sound gentle or collected at _all_. 

“At least he isn’t hurt,” she points out, something she’s also been doing often since Cecil has been more-or-less stalking Kevin’s blogged-about desert life. It always manages to calm Cecil down considerably if not completely. He feels some tension fade, and she goes on with something she hasn’t pointed out before. “Actually, this means we have two sources now to monitor his progress with - Carlos himself, and Kevin. The second one isn’t as great of an idea, but it’s more!”

She ends it like a question. Cecil works to get himself to nod at her words, tries to do it slowly and sagely and very much like a mature adult, and he knows he just ends up giving something like a curt tick of his neck and head. Maurine moves slowly then as she sighs, giving Cecil all the chance to stop her from getting his phone, lifting it from the desk, and dropping it into her pocket. 

Cecil’s fists and crossed arms tighten, restraining themselves from objecting. This isn’t the first instance he’s had to have his phone confiscated; even before Carlos was trapped in the desert, he’s had to have interns hold onto his phone to keep from texting him, and even before _Carlos_ , he’s had his phone relinquished to avoid him from interrupting traffic reports so that he could let the whole town know that one of the fanfics he’s been following finally updated. 

It feels _harder_ now, though. Not as terrible and horrifying as the first time Maurine handed him her phone and showed him the first picture post and he promptly ran around for over an hour, roaring into Carlos’s voicemail and begging for him to confirm that he was alright, and at the Secret Police as well as the Menacing Government Agency to do _something_ to try and find and save his boyfriend. Cecil doesn’t know if he could have stopped himself from that frenzy of angry fear had Carlos not texted and called saying that he was, indeed, alright, and healthy, despite being followed by the pin-up boy for cheap gore horror movies. 

“We’re the only two people here,” Carlos had said from the other end of the line after helping Cecil to gather himself again, after those who Cecil had raged at stopped shifting in place and had given up side-eyeing him warily, after they had stopped speaking to him in voices that tried to be soothing but that had begun to sound too hard and warning. “Kevin is…really passive. I don’t think he knows any other way to escape other than to follow me around and hope I find one. So, I don’t think he’s going to hurt me. But _trust_ me; I’ll do whatever it takes to take care of myself.” 

Carlos never met Kevin, never had to hold off Cecil’s double from tearing at his face and twisting his wrist, and Cecil couldn’t verbally reply to Carlos’s promise - only grimaced, knowing that telling Carlos how strong Kevin could be would be both pointless and needlessly disheartening. 

“Robert is coming with tea,” says Maurine after thinking to put Cecil’s phone on silent. Three more minutes until airtime. “And Josie - Old Woman Josie - she sent in some sweets for us, for you, and says they’re for helping you get through this rough patch you have with Carlos. She says not to worry too much, and that one of the muffins is bitter, and one of them is so spicy that you’re gonna want to save the milk for when - _when_ \- you eat that one, and that it _will_ happen during your broadcast. Take care.” 

“I’ll tell her ‘thank you,’” Cecil replies, and can’t bring himself to smooth his tie and hair or drink a glass of water even as Maurine leaves and as Robert sets the snacks out next to Cecil and as he introduces the night’s show with, “Violence…is _sometimes_ the answer. If there is a will, there is hopefully a way to open a portal, break the fabric of the universe, and beat someone’s teeth out of their mouths regardless if they are in another dimension, and afterwards rescue your loved one as you leave your enemy alone to suffer under the hot sun and the empty landscape. Welcome to Night Vale.” 

 

* * *

 

Kevin introduced himself and didn’t know how to stop being the Desert Bluff’s impression of _friendly_. 

“Hold still; oh my gosh!” He squealed, and it was with that tone and with him taking out his phone and aiming the camera right at Carlos’s face while he attempted to keep Carlos from moving away that Carlos thought, well, fine, he can deal with this, he can work around it; Kevin just wants a picture. Somehow, Kevin’s enthusiasm - however rough and physically painful - over certain features Carlos has - his “perfect teeth,” his “smooth, strong neck” - reminded him, for better or worse, of the face Cecil sometimes got when he looked at Carlos. Not too odd, being that they _are_ doubles of each other. 

Kevin’s phone clicked, and he promptly let Carlos go, his hand sliding over his neck and shoulder before Carlos balked away. Kevin did something like smile at that - at least Carlos observes that the movements of Kevin’s mouth did approximations of the movements faces did when they smile - and otherwise continued playing with his phone. 

“I thought you were the _ugliest thing_ ,” Kevin admitted moments afterward as they were walking together, Carlos far from resigned at being shadowed by something Cecil, of all people, once described as “vile” and “contemptuous” when he hadn’t been that harsh even with the giant worm that had attempted to devour the Night Vale elementary school last season. “I don’t know _what_ Night Vale saw in you. But now, I don’t know, maybe you _can_ be perfect. Maybe with a haircut, or a trim, or something, and with contacts or lasik instead of _those_ bulky things…” 

Carlos didn’t know what Kevin meant by that, what could have brought that on, but that night, after having to console Cecil, he looked over Kevin’s shoulder as the man settled down to rest, his phone out and open to his gallery, where the photo being oogled at was none other than Carlos’s “perfect” teeth.

“To be honest, Carlos dear,” Kevin says now, sitting too close to Carlos, blocking the light from his notes, “I’m not really eager to go back home. Are you? I don’t mean Night Vale, but wherever the forces that kicked us out of where we _don’t_ belong think we should be. How bad could it be, really, to stay here for the rest of our lives? For the rest of existence? _Think_ about it, Carlos! You and me!” 

Kevin’s smiles are becoming less and less stretched, less forced, more droopy and less like a smile but, to Carlos, they somehow seem less artificial, even if not at all genuine yet. Carlos gives an answer he thinks Kevin already expects, saying that he’s going back to Night Vale regardless, and Kevin’s smile is still and solemn and knowing - knowing how Carlos feels about staying with him. Carlos can’t afford to feel remorse for someone so untrustworthy, though. 

“Why didn’t you accept the offer to work at Strexx,” is what Kevin mumbled hours earlier. Carlos looked up from his meter to squint at Kevin’s smile. “I mean the Desert Bluffs location. I mean with me. I mean, imagine that, Carlos - us, having worked together, for what? A year? Two years?” 

He heard the wistfulness in Kevin’s voice, or he saw it in how Kevin had started to slouch, or he felt it coming off of Kevin, or inferred it from the context of his speech. Even earlier than that moment, Carlos had begun humoring Kevin’s small requests, Kevin’s small breaks in the silence, because what else could Carlos do, and what would Kevin do if he refused. “That labcoat is dreadful, Carlos. It’s _dirty_ and too long. Take it off, Carlos?” “Stay still; this is going on my blog. Stay still, and please smile!” “Take this! Just think of me ripping it from the hem of my shirt as a sign that we’re friends now. See, its even clean. Bloodless. Boring, if you ask me - _plain_ \- but I’ve seen how you look at my clothes stains, so I’ll be considerate. Use it to tie that messy, unkempt hair from your face, please; you’ll look much better that way. Honestly, Carlos,” he laughed good-naturedly, “The minute I find something sharper than _sand_ or a blunt rock, I’m going to _cut all the excess hair right off!_ ” 

“Well, _I_ don’t mind,” Kevin replies now, bringing his knees up and holding them in front of him, his phone beside the few things Carlos was able to keep from Night Vale before them. “We don’t get hungry easily, we don’t get tired easily! We don’t have enemies, look! Nothing to fight, not anymore,” Kevin goes quiet. Carlos doesn’t answer when Kevin looks at him with eyes that don’t seem to be there and says, “Only us.” 

 

* * *

 

“And where is he now?” Cecil asks Carlos over the phone, staring at Khoshekh resolutely for some sense of levity. “Can he hear us?” 

“No, I don’t think so. I’m pretty far away.” Carlos doesn’t sound dehydrated on the phone, which is good. The town has been continuing the system they’ve used to help keep Dana fed by catapulting food and drinks over the fence of the Forbidden Dog Park, not knowing if it would still work, but Carlos did say that he and Kevin found a lone, unopened water bottle on the ground since then, so. “I’ve been keeping my eye on him, like you’ve said I should. Nothing bad has happened. Cecil, you should probably know: I was wrong about what I said before. He doesn’t want to leave. He doesn’t want to go back home.” 

“Did you ask him if he’d still feel that way if only you weren’t there with him,” Cecil doesn’t inquire. He probably doesn’t want to know the answer. “Well, he certainly isn’t welcome _here_ ,” he also chooses not to say, because even though it’s true, he’d rather Carlos come back to Night Vale with a lone Desert Bluffs citizen that, as an individual, he and the Police and the Government can probably control anyway than for Carlos to not come back at all.

“Why not,” Cecil finally decides to ask. 

He probably can think of over a dozen answers to his own question though, to be honest. Carlos answers, “He says he thinks it’s more peaceful here.” Then, “As long as it stays that way. You know, Cecil, I’ve been making a lot of progress studying this place. There are spots where if you just take one step, the temperature is drastically different, you can hear the wind pick up noises you couldn’t from another step away. Cecil, I think this desert can potentially connect not just to Night Vale, but other places as well. I know just that isn’t enough to get out of here, but it’s something, definitely.” 

Cecil waits for it. “I get so happy when I make progress,” Carlos says, and Cecil feels himself start to smile, even if it might be small and strained. “It can be lonely, and sometimes frightening, both despite and because of the company, and I get so sulky sometimes when time goes by, and keeps going by, and I’ve learned nothing new or useful yet. But I think of you. I can’t lose hope.” 

“I love you,” Cecil replies, keeps himself from saying another redundant, “I’m sorry; I wish I could help you,” or another, “Remember to leave him behind as soon as you can.” 

“I love you too.”

 

* * *

 

Carlos dictates more observations to Cecil; all the better for when Cecil relays that information to the town so that someone might be able to help. In between, they swing to attempting and briefly succeeding in talking to each other like they always have before going to bed, with mundane banter on food, did you pray to the bloodstones already, what to do with the dead rodents littered around Khoshekh despite him not having moved, brushing teeth, and Carlos asking how the radio station and lab and town was, is Cecil taking care of himself, is Cecil talking to someone about this besides Carlos, is he with proper support. It became all the more important since, what is approximately to Carlos and what is longer to Cecil, three days ago. 

Carlos feels his back, more vulnerable without the labcoat now tied by the sleeves around his waist, start to tingle, and he knows Kevin is, for some reason (Carlos has a hypothesis; he hopes it isn’t true), growing impatient, wants Carlos to sit with him for the night again before they may or may not fall asleep. Carlos does a good job ignoring him. He cannot make himself too available or resigned to Kevin; to his displeasure, Carlos has a feeling Kevin would take that kind of acceptance The Wrong Way. 

Instead, Carlos sits down where he is, waiting for Cecil or himself to fall asleep on the phone. He’s already feeling drowsy himself, relaxed from Cecil mumbling in his ear, probably near sleep as well, when Kevin leans over and presses the End Call button for him. 

Carlos hadn’t even felt himself lie down, but now he props himself up on his elbows, feeling himself glare at Kevin, who only widens his smile. In the dark, he almost looks like Cecil getting ready for bed beside him, but the image only makes Carlos more miffed at having the conversation with his boyfriend get cut off prematurely. 

“You’ve never done that before,” Carlos broaches. He’s not yet ready to run away from Kevin if his hypothesis is correct, the one he never wants to test; he doesn’t know how to get from one plane of existence to another, to open a door or rip in an area that doesn’t, for a few seconds, feel or sound or smell anything like a vast desert. There aren’t that many places to hide from Kevin if Carlos feels the need to run away. 

Kevin shrugs helplessly, brings his shoulders and arms and knees closer to himself and says with that smile, “I got lonely.” He comes down, and Carlos tenses and doesn’t unwind even as Kevin’s face passes his, and he simply lies down beside Carlos, unseen eyes and face turned to Carlos expectantly, too many teeth illuminated by the moonlight. 

Carlos seriously considers walking away. Kevin’s hand is heavy on his shoulder, then, and Carlos is pushed down. “Rest,” Kevin says, or orders, not moving his arm, and Carlos takes a chance; doesn’t fight or outright object, but turns to look at Kevin and make sure he knows that Carlos is collected, is thinking, is hopefully not letting his fear show on his face. 

“I’m uncomfortable,” he says, waiting for Kevin’s smile to falter just a little, for the easy strength in his arms to falter just a little. Something does falter; the hold becomes significantly less easy, and Kevin shuffles closer. 

Kevin dismisses, his voice deeper and thick, “That’s fine,” his arm shifting over to hold Carlos’s arm down as they both hear a phone vibrate. 

 

* * *

 

Carlos wonders if Kevin started posting pictures of them out of spite or petty vengeance against Cecil and doesn’t let himself continue wondering if now it’s grown to mean something else, something more. The last photo was of Kevin stretching his arm out again, up, and he was able to catch a shot of him holding Carlos’s hand as they kept walking through the desert, one of them with a face - as it does in every picture they’ve taken together, as it does with Cecil as well - that is blurred as though the camera couldn’t catch the movement of Kevin’s head, with the only detail apparent being that the blurred face was, indeed, smiling a wide - impossibly wide - smile, and the other, Carlos, never having smiled at all. In a few of the pictures Kevin’s taken, however, he had asked Carlos to smile, to which Carlos already knew what he really meant, and so had grimaced, reluctantly displaying his teeth to the camera. 

His phone vibrates in his pocket. It’s probably from Cecil, probably “I love you.” Kevin’s hold on his hand tightens and starts to hurt. Carlos takes the first opportunity he has at an escape as calmly and subtly as he can, making his face relax and his voice not sound too eager as he suggests that they split up to investigate the large structure they come across. 

“It definitely looks made. Maybe man-made.” Maybe made from the M.I.A. desert army, maybe from a great landscape beast. Carlos reaches out and feels its smooth texture, inspects its openings - one large enough to walk into, though it’s hard to tell what’s inside with how dark it seems. “Possibly rectangular too; we’d have to walk around all sides to see. We could use our phones as lights if it’s safe enough to enter its mouth.”

Kevin finally lets go of his hand, and Carlos doesn’t hesitate to wipe the shared sweat off on his clothes even if it does seem rude. He walks towards the nearest corner of what may or may not be a building when Kevin asks, “What’s in your labcoat pockets, Carlos?” 

Carlos pauses, Kevin stepping up right beside him, already peering into the deep sacks of his coat. “Not much, unfortunately. I keep the danger meter in there,” he says, gesturing to the device already in his hand, which has been on the higher end of the scale since Kevin’s arrival, making Kevin a rather biased factor in its readings. “I have a notepad, a couple of pens, but don’t tell anyone. I kept the water bottle even though it’s empty; same for the candy wrap-” 

Kevin unties the coat from Carlos’s waist and dumps the contents of his pockets onto the sand. Carlos gets the gist of what Kevin is up to only after he’s crouched down and tried to gather the items into his arms. His labcoat is crumpled and rolled into a tight ball in Kevin’s hands as he strides to the mouth of the structure, and Carlos barely gets out a word of protest before his coat is flung inside, almost completely into the darkness. Carlos doesn’t make a move to go after it. 

“I can be smart too, see?” Kevin pumps his chest out, props his hands on his hips. Carlos’s face scrunches up at that as he observes his labcoat, vulnerable and defenseless, out of his reach. “Those chunky glasses can go next, Carlos.” 

“Go throw in something of your own!” Carlos snaps, not taking his eyes off from his coat, but he hears Kevin giggle in reply. Carlos’s teeth mash together at knowing he was successfully goaded into a heated reaction, and tries to make up for it with, “If anything happens to my coat-” which he says in a tone that’s still admittedly irritate, “-we’ll throw in the water bottle for additional observation.”

“Of _course_ ,” Kevin hisses, gleeful, patronizing. Carlos doesn’t see his coat move or be moved, but he and Kevin don’t even wait for a minute before Carlos finds that he can’t see the contours of his coat at all anymore. 

The darkness shifted around it, he thinks, and voices this observation. “I can’t see it anymore. Is there another sentient thing inside?” 

“What are you talking about, dear? It’s still right there,” Kevin casually leans on the wall of the entrance, crossing his arms and legs comfortably. “I can see it perfectly well.” 

Carlos doesn’t understand, but remembers Cecil saying something about the possibility of Kevin being able to See things no one else can, remembers the countless of times Carlos had thought Cecil could see things that weren’t observable to Carlos. Omnipresence, or a sixth sense; it might make sense for his double to have something similar as well. “What do you mean, you can see it perfectly well?”

“Your labcoat is fine,” Kevin impatiently reassures. “Getting a little cold, a little alone, but it’s there and it’s fine. Don’t know how safe it is in there, though. How about I get the water bottl-”

Carlos is already stepping inside when he snips, “I’ll check it out.” He hears Kevin’s sharp inhale - whether from wanting to object or from offense at being interrupted, Carlos doesn’t stop to check. Whatever Kevin’s ability, there was a hint of it being cold in the desert, or there being a spot in this vast space where one could be alone - alone from others, alone from one of the only two people Carlos has seen in here. Carlos shuffles into the darkness for his labcoat. 

Kevin calls out from the entrance in a tone that is unnervingly sing-song. “Carlos? Will you be in there long?” 

“I don’t know,” Carlos answers, can practically feel Kevin’s displeasure. He can’t find his coat or feel it from where it was, and he turns around to look at Kevin’s silhouette against the bright desert day shining into the unnatural cave. “Can you still see it, Kevin? Because I can’t; it isn’t here.”

The answer is drawn out, slow, and makes Carlos thinks of pointed, artificial smiles growing wider, or a dagger sliding out of a sheath. “Are you playing with me, Carlos?” 

So, Carlos answers hastily, “I’m almost done.” Which, hopefully, in terms of his time spent in the desert with a vindictive companion, is true. He walks in deeper still, his danger meter softly buzzing with more frequency in his hand, which Carlos considers but truthfully thinks is ironic, because what could be more dangerous than the violent double of your boyfriend standing guard behind you and possibly starting to crush a horrible kind of crush on you. He is, hopefully, almost done with this attempt at getting away. 

He reaches out until he feels the right wall, keeps walking until his hand slides from it and holds onto nothing as he reaches a corner, turns, and half expects Kevin to call out, “What about your _labcoat_ , Carlos,” but he doesn’t. It is silent as Carlos keeps going, more silent than the desert outside even when Kevin wasn’t talking, even with the meter vibrating with him. It is silent, still, as he feels another corner but gives it up, lets go and just walks ahead with his hand in front of him. Blessedly, it starts to feel cooler. He starts to hear wisps and breezes and drafts of things he thinks are voices.

He could use his cellphone to light the path, but maybe later. No need to broadcast his exact location to Kevin so soon. 

 

* * *

 

[Image: A down-to-up shot of a stone, brown square, looking almost like a two-story building, in front of a desert background.]

Caption: Dear Carlos and I found a clue! He seems lost though. I’ll go in and help him like a good friend. :) 

Inbox [1]

Anonymous said: Hold it! It doesn’t look safe in there. You should wait until Carlos says it’s alright to go inside before doing something reckless. Anything else is vveeeerrrryyyyyyyyyyyy irresponsible. 

Reply: Aha! Silly me, friend! You bring up a good point, but I must confess, I’m SO UNEASY about leaving Carlos in there by himself. He has such weak eyes, you wouldn’t believe! I feel like I would be the more effective candidate to investigate dark places. I should save Carlos from his _own_ recklessness, you see. 

Inbox [1]

Anonymous said: Carlos can take care of himself.

Inbox [1]

Anonymous said: Don’t save him! He’s going to betray you, just leave him alone. Leave him there to fend for himself! You’re better off without him!

Reply: LOL! My goodness, THANK YOU from the bottom of my heart for worrying about me~ But really, your worries are unneeded! Believe it or not, I am actually happier making this journey with my new friend even though I _know_ his loyalties are not correct at the moment. He’s just so fun to be with! He listens to me talk about my problems, I tell him my secrets - how can I not fall a little bit in love with him and his grinding, perfect teeth? You understand that feeling more than anyone, don’t you, Cecil? ♥♥

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…


	2. learn to love me (you'll see)

Carlos has noted that the time span in this desert during which it is bright is prolonged so that what are seemingly day-and-night cycles are likely much longer than twenty-four hours - not that Carlos can really rely on his watch anymore, which seems to stop working whenever it pleases only to start up again later. The time in which it seems to be night is so short, Carlos thinks, that he always wakes up from a sleep that is quicker than what he’s used to. Kevin doesn’t seem to mind, even though Carlos is observing that nighttime, however brief, is usually the only time Kevin feels comfortable to lay his terrible, brutal, insidious heart out. 

A list of things Kevin whispers to Carlos in the almost-dark, sometimes holding him down, always with a smile: 

Kevin tried to lead them into the subject with another, “It’s nice to not have anything to do, sometimes,” and, after a moment, corrected himself. “It’s nice to not _have_ to do something, every day, or else. You know?” Carlos’s shoulders only got more knotted when Kevin’s hands began to rub them, so that not even a minute into it, Carlos shook them off. “It’s nice to not feel any _tension_ once in a while,” Kevin purred, speaking for himself. 

(“But I _am_ working, you know!” His voice was chipper the next sunny day, and he skipped as he once more caught the both of them in another photo. “I’m a reporter at heart, after all!” Carlos frowns at the familiarity. “It’s my duty to report your every activity on my blog. At the very least, then, we’re both still industriously doing our jobs even out of the office.”)

Carlos spent the second night staring blankly at his notes about changing temperatures and sounds carried from nothing when Kevin mumbled, “You never tell me I’m wrong for not really working.” Carlos broke from his train of thought to peer at him. “That was such bull, but you haven’t yelled at me for not helping you find a way back yet.”

And Carlos made the mistake, maybe, of laughing genuinely and admitting, “I wouldn’t know what to ask you to help me with, still!” 

To which Kevin replied with a surprisingly solemn, “That’s alright, then. We could just stay here. Who wants to go back to a hopeless town, anyway, right?” 

(“They’ll find me!” Kevin proclaimed, gloriously, joyously, staring right into what Carlos believes is an actual sun. “My beautiful town, and my co-workers at StrexxCorp. They’ll find both of us! Our scientists at Desert Bluffs are, after all, much better at their jobs than even you, dear Carlos. You, with a lab that’s probably outdated and a team that is far too small and human.”

Carlos only glared, but stayed silent because, even early as then, he could see Kevin’s pattern, could see Kevin give him long, still looks from under the palm of his hand shading his face from the sun. A natural sun, Carlos is leaning towards thinking.)

He was texting Cecil the third night, which in Night Vale probably counted for a week, but Carlos still isn’t sure. “You’ve noticed I haven’t just snapped your neck,” Kevin muttered, quietly, as though offended at being prioritized under Carlos’s texting. 

Carlos has had no choice but to take chances when dealing with Kevin’s silent but ever-seething temperament, having sometimes asserted intolerance and displeasure and sometimes going along with Kevin’s suggestions and topics of conversation. He did a little bit of both, then, sighing heavily as he lowered his phone, and looked to Kevin pointedly, eyebrows arched impatiently. “Yeah?” 

“I’ve been extraordinarily gentle, right?” Kevin pointed out, to which Carlos agrees and disagrees with. Hair-pulling and grabbing and tugging someone so harshly that they bruise, however, isn’t nearly as terrible as what he’s heard from Cecil, Josie, and others in Night Vale when they feel able to talk about Desert Bluffs, or even about just the double in question. Carlos supposed it could be worse. “Take us back to wherever we belong, like you say you’re planning to, and I’ll go right back to being just what you’re so scared I might be right now. You might as well tell Cecil goodbye if you’re planning on bringing us both back to our towns.” 

Carlos heard what Kevin was asking of him, heard again in his mind what he told Cecil over the phone after the door closed and vanished in his face. In his hand, his phone vibrated once, probably alerting him to the status of the ant infestation Cecil was dictating to him over messages, which would probably end in fire, or a day’s worth of negotiations, or help from spiders. 

He rubbed his screen. “You belong wherever you choose to belong, Kevin.” He didn’t look down as there came another silent, shaking buzz in his hand. His phone or the danger meter? “You don’t have to go back to that place. I don’t have to go back to wherever the powers that be tell me I should either. I’m going to Night Vale.”

“Let’s not.” Kevin leaned in closer. His posture was too familiar; Cecil would have reached out and held onto Carlos’s hand. Another buzz, and Kevin didn’t touch him, but still voiced his wish aloud, even if it was in a whisper. “Give up. Don’t find a way back.”

Carlos wonders if it was a mistake when, at having assumed, later that night, that Kevin was asleep, he got up and made to walk ahead, away from the double. He didn’t get far before he finally looked back and saw Kevin’s teeth gleam back at him, the man just as awake and lucid, several feet away but still in sight from Carlos. 

“It’d be better if you find a way to wherever those powers that be think you _really_ belong!” Kevin replied, much belatedly, just moments before the sun came up again. “Away from Night Vale, away from-…” Carlos actually slowed down at that, made it easier for Kevin to catch up to him so that they could face each other as he told Carlos, “Wherever that far away place is, I’d love to go there with you! A bit of adventure and travel never hurt anyone, had it?”

(Carlos admits that he was waiting for Kevin to contradict himself the following day. He admits that he was a little impressed when Kevin did the opposite, when all the killer talked about, languidly, without tension, was how different things could have been if he’d only gotten to Carlos earlier, had fixed Carlos up to be an actually relevant and more productive scientist, how things might be now that Kevin doesn’t really need to do those things here, in this world where the sun doesn’t smile with menace at anything Kevin does or doesn’t do that displeases it.

“Lead the way, _Carlos the Scientist_ ,” Kevin mocked at Carlos for stating the importance of the continued study of what he’s been tentatively calling “hotspots.” “I’ll keep following you.”)

Carlos doesn’t consider that maybe Kevin forgot how to care about other people, forgot how to properly act when he takes an interest in someone else. He doesn’t consider it until today.

 

* * *

 

Inbox [19]

do you even know what love IS!???/?

“Carlos,” Kevin calls out at entering the cave, or building. “Where are you going?”

 

* * *

 

Carlos doesn’t know, and doesn’t know where he is. 

This place has a cluster of hotspots, all of them with different scents, different sounds. One step had Carlos in seventy-three degree weather, the next step had him in the fifties. One had smelled like wet dog, the other like the familiar scent of chilly pollution. Carlos doesn’t know how to get through any of them. 

He texts Cecil about it and adds, “trying to find night vale. i don’t know what to do once, or if, i find it, but i’ll tell you if it happens.” Carlos is honestly not sure if he will even recognize Night Vale from its hotspot, if it even still has one in this desert, in this cave. The town’s scents and sounds and sights were always changing, sometimes engulfed in a great flood, sometimes drowning in fire, sometimes skittered over by gross armies of rodents and bugs, sometimes filled with carcasses hurled down by a great cloud who happened to be in a bad mood that day. But Carlos has a chance, and Carlos is taking it, even if he doesn’t know what Cecil will do now with this information- 

-Even if he doesn’t know how Kevin will react when he realizes that Carlos is making another active effort to get away. He was fine last time though, Carlos tries to reassure himself. Kevin hasn’t been influenced and provoked by StrexxCorp in the last few days either, Carlos hopes, so that he would be compelled to beat and maim anyone who’s an enemy to that corporate empire. 

In all honesty, that’s not enough for Carlos to feel any better about spending much time with Kevin, not with the fact that, Strexx or no Strexx, Kevin still originated from the place that even the toughest of Night Vale citizens described as nothing but a pit of carnage and daily warfare. 

He’s felt himself walking towards a downward slope and assumes that he’s underground by now, in a room clustered with pillars or columns, all of them cylinder in shape, smooth, some hot and some cold and some mild, one of them with the scent of lilies and others of things and places burning, of smoke. He doesn’t walk so much as shuffle, because he can’t see, doesn’t want to fall into a deep pit, doesn’t want to ram his face into a wall or column. 

His name is called out again, and he doesn’t hear - doesn’t mind not hearing - what Kevin is chattering about in the distance, doesn’t really want his voice close enough to figure out what he’s saying. 

“You’re so weak and pitiful!” Carlos doesn’t hear Kevin say. “Groping at the dark like that. If you weren’t so cute under all that _shaggy mess_ that Night Vale considers ‘perfect’ then, well! Come on, friend, don’t you want to see all the messages your _boyfriend_ left for me? They’re all about you, of course.” 

There’s a buzz in the pocket of Carlos’s jeans, and he fumbles, turning his phone on silent, dimming the light of the monitor. He fumbles at hearing Kevin’s voice come close enough to be coherent, ducking behind a pillar at the side opposite of the direction from where he’d heard Kevin’s voice. It felt wet, muggy, humid, and sounded like the buzzing of flies. Carlos considers, near desperately, attempting to break the pillar, or text Cecil about it. 

“Don’t get me wrong, though. You’re refreshing,” is added as though Carlos needs Kevin’s reassurance. “I guess it’s good to keep something that’s more than a little flawed. It adds a bit of spice and variety to the things that already are flawless. Not everything _has_ to be **drenched** and _gaping open_ , I guess. Not that it wouldn’t help with your looks, Carlos.” 

And Carlos has started to hate the sound of his name on Kevin’s lips, almost huffed out, barely affectionate, as though Carlos is the insufferable one, the one with quirks Kevin feels that he just must put up with. 

“I haven’t told you how tired I sometimes was of the same styles and trends that were so rampantly overdone back at home. So, maybe your sloppiness isn’t _too_ bad. See, Carlos? I can be nice. Not that you shouldn’t make the effort to meet me halfway. Really.” 

Carlos’s back is to the pillar, his head resting on it uncomfortably as his eyes stare at the darkness ahead when Kevin’s hand eventually sags onto his shoulder. 

“The team is back together again!” Kevin cheers, his breath on Carlos’s face, warmer even than the heavy air of the column they’re by. 

 

* * *

 

Things Carlos isn’t aware of: 

The camera bugs that were set up in his residence and lab in Night Vale, not from the Secret and Menacing Government Agency or the Sheriff’s Secret Police or the Faceless Old Woman Who Secretly Lives In Most People’s Homes. The images getting fed into a room of monitors, where those with the widest of smiles have tried to predict what Carlos was building that could help with the sabotage of Strexx’s Night Vale location - which, eventually, proved to be a vain attempt, as Carlos and his small team had been working from a hidden location as well. 

The man with the largest smile had been filled with instant hatred, before even the sight of Carlos reached any variation of his sight. Reason one: Carlos doesn’t believe in a smiling god. Reason two: Carlos is an unproductive, destructive future employee. Reason three: Carlos (still) has the will to fight; well, that won’t last too long. Reason four: Carlos is supporting the growth of that will in others as well. Reason five: Why Night Vale? Why two years ago? What does that town, or his double, have that makes Desert Bluffs undeserving of that extra support? 

The plan became, then, to mandate Carlos’s compliant employment. The plan included, to Kevin, hair too flamboyant to be ripped and slicked back with red, limbs and head being forced still so that sight so clear could be scorched in and replace cheap and old-prescription lenses, stale white coats spruced with colors of dark brown and coral, straight and tight teeth unhidden and completely exposed in a grin beaming with joy, joy being compelled by the same power that compels Kevin and by the entrails that Kevin would have wrapped around right under that tough jaw and around those strong wrists as though Kevin were giving him jewelry for finally becoming what it _really_ means to be perfect. 

The scientist could do with a bit of a fix. The scientist doesn’t have to, though, not really or not much, if only it remains that there is not much reason for it, that they are nowhere near a place where Carlos would look too out of place, too hideous for him to stay the way he is. 

Something that Carlos has probably already inferred: 

Desert Bluffs isn’t as perfect as it used to be, anyway. Kevin could do with some extra time away. 

 

* * *

 

His hand was clawed around, tight, on Carlos’s upper arm, though his posture doesn’t give away anything of being upset, or struggling to pull a grown man along in the dark.

“I should stay here for a while and study this place,” is what Carlos had said to bide time in this cave filled with potential escape routes. It had worked for a grand total of two minutes and thirty-two seconds before Kevin huffed and asserted to Carlos, who he’d begun to drag back towards the way they came, that any additional efforts made in this area would be pointless. Which, needless to say, only makes Carlos think to have even more hope than before about the place. 

Carlos raises an arm to shield his eyes from the light of the building’s entrance. “Kevin.” The man with gapes for eyes has grown silent as his pace and grip on Carlos’s arm remains steady. “Kevin, wait. Wait, wait!” 

They stop, Kevin turning sharply to Carlos with gritted teeth and wide, testy gapes for eyes. Despite the ever not-smile that nevertheless is supposedly a representation of pleasantness, Kevin speaks in that lower, thicker tone that Carlos is starting to recognize as the decline of any sense of playfulness, “What?” 

And Carlos considers fighting not for the first time, but for the first time, he considers it as necessary, as the only option left. He considers how done Kevin is now with holding onto the pretense of his interpretation of “gentle.” He considers how the two of them have been the only two people Carlos has seen for days, considers again how easy it could be for, if one of them were to run and hide, how easy it might be for the other to track them. 

Carlos wishes that he could think of a time when he has ever knocked someone or something out with just his bare fists, without the aid of a device or his teammates, but he can’t. “My coat,” he answers, would-be demure. He sees it again, finally, and feels almost disheartened, having thought, before, that it really had been transported to another dimension - all the more hopeful so that he could have done the same. Slowly, he reaches down as much as Kevin’s hold on his arm can allow and picks it up. 

“You could just _leave_ that filthy thing here,” Kevin hisses through closed teeth and upturned lips that look less and less like a smile. He pulls, then, and Carlos doesn’t let himself be dragged. He strides outside along with Kevin, shielding his eyes from the light of day. 

Kevin’s grip on him eases, and Carlos takes the opportunity to shake himself free. He turns away and towards the items Kevin had discarded still strewn on the sand before roughly tugging his labcoat back on, jerking his arms through its sleeves instead of tying it around his waist again. Kevin doesn’t say anything as he makes his way to the mess on the ground, crouching down and picking the items up to place them back in his pockets. 

At seeing Kevin’s shadow loom closer over him, behind him, Carlos reminds, his voice low and impressively steady considering the spike in frustration he feels, “I’m going back to Night Vale.” He stands and looks back at the too-familiar face wearing a too-foreign expression. “You don’t want to go back to your town, and I understand. But _I_ am going back to mine, whether or not you decide to stay here.” Finally, his voice has started to shake, if only just a little. “If you don’t, then the only reason we are still together is because I don’t know how to create and open a door from here to Night Vale. But I _am_ going back, whether or not you want me to.” 

Carlos is warned by a widening show of teeth, and that’s all it takes for him to step back quickly, away from Kevin’s fist shooting at him, and Carlos decides that it’s time to try the impossible and turns to run. 

He doesn’t make it back inside the mouth of the building before Kevin pounces to keep up with him, his fingers and nails digging into Carlos’s hair and pulling back, back, throwing the scientist onto the sand and keeping his grip on Carlos’s head, his hold shifting painfully as he crouches and straddles Carlos to avoid getting hit by his legs, leaning down so that he blocks out Carlos’s view of the sun. 

Kevin’s tone is pleasant. “Take that back.” His fingers contract even more around Carlos’s hair when no answer is given right away. Carlos fights back, his own fists pounding on Kevin’s chest and shoulders and causing Kevin to huff in the shock and pain before he releases Carlos’s hair, using both his hands to capture and hold down the scientist’s wrists above his head. 

“I have been trapped with Strexx for _years_ ,” Kevin grounds out, growls, and as he and Carlos tire their arms trying to fight for and against the hold they’re in, so does Kevin’s artificially upturned lips start to falter. “I’ve been beneath that smiling god for so long, without my own _voice_ , and for the first time in so long, I thought you were _listening_ to me! Listening to _me!_ ** _Haven’t you been listening to me?_** ” 

One hand splays and presses itself down on Carlos’s stacked wrists while Kevin’s other hand springs to Carlos’s throat, and Carlos’s breath hitches before he realizes that Kevin has roughly gripped not his neck but the bottom of his chin, as though Carlos hasn’t already been intently glowering at his face. 

Kevin gives Carlos some similar expression to those he’d started to wear at nights between them, when nothing but moonlight and small flames and small cellphone monitors could expose it. “You’re _dead_ if you go back to Night Vale. Do you want to know why? Because _I will be following you_ , like I _said_ I would, and if we go to Night Vale, I will go back to Strexx, and I will kill you and your boyfriend. If you were as perfect as Cecil keeps insisting you are, then you should find a smarter way to help me other than getting us back to where all this trouble started!” 

Carlos briefly ceases struggling from both exhaustion and because there is no doubt that a part of himself has been acknowledging that Kevin has been exposing himself to Carlos in a way that he, for some reason, had very little ability to do back in either of their towns, that Kevin has progressed significantly from yearning to return to Strexx employment to yearning to remain a Strexx runaway. And Carlos tries to take a deep breath, sighing out an exhale as he thinks of some way to make this a worthwhile journey for both of them, when Kevin bends further down and kisses him. 

Carlos hears, or feels Kevin’s lips mouth, repeat, “Help me,” dubiously sincere, and Kevin moves, hot breath trailing to Carlos’s cheek languidly so that Kevin could kiss him there, and he moves to Carlos’s neck. 

Both hands move to Carlos’s shoulders, down to the lapels of his labcoat, and this time, it’s Carlos who grabs the other’s wrists. “Kevin,” he confronts as Kevin simultaneously and, to Carlos, dishearteningly adds, “I’ll make you help me.” His hands hold Carlos’s, firmly, and not painfully, not yet. The danger meter spikes to its highest setting and beeps twice in alert as Kevin looks back up at Carlos, smiling again, less and less artificial, which given the context, Carlos find distressing. “Close your eyes, Carlos.”

“ _Why,_ ” Carlos shouts, pulling his hands out of Kevin’s and using all his strength to shove Kevin off him, sitting up. 

Kevin stumbles but reaches out and catches Carlos’s shoulders, using the other to help him regain his balance, and he crouches before him, smoothing the front of a dirty but still entirely too dull labcoat. “Close your eyes,” Kevin instructs, holding Carlos still and steady once more, “and you can pretend. I’ll feel just like him. We can stay right where we are; I know we can.”

Carlos makes to shove him away again and barely manages just a slap before Kevin rams him back, and Carlos is almost on his back for another infuriating time but catches himself on his elbows. “You don’t have to be like this!” Carlos reasons, barking at Kevin’s invasive face, unnervingly reminiscent of a giddy, nervous Cecil. “If you really hate StrexxCorp so much, then Night Vale can help you! I can find a way back, we can find a way to communicate. I’ll help the resistance from there while you find ways to oppose them from here. Don’t you get it, Kevin? I _can_ help you, but staying here, running away isn’t going to help anyone. I _won’t_ let you keep me here!” 

Without losing the closest Kevin’s face has come to affection, Carlos is punched in the face. The crack sounding between Kevin’s knuckles and Carlos’s upper cheek is the only sound heard for a moment as Carlos is pitched to the ground, then rocks himself slightly on his back and reaches out to shield the hurt area on his face. Kevin chuckles, quick and high-pitched, and Carlos’s hands are shoved aside as Kevin palms Carlos’s cheek. He flinches. The crease on Kevin’s forehead as he looks at Carlos might mean a lot of things, but Carlos doesn’t care at the moment. 

“Oh, Carlos,” he coos, petting him. “You’re really not that smart after all. I can’t betray my company like that.” 

Callous, Kevin swipes Carlos’s eyeglasses off of their crooked perch on his face, and Carlos does close his eyes this time, though not for the reason Kevin suggests, and feels hot, burning breath and lips pucker on his own. 

 

* * *

 

“Fine,” is what Carlos decides should come out of his mouth as the sky turns pink. “I’ll take care of you.” Kevin props himself on his elbows and smiles down at him, at how much prettier, if only a little, Carlos looks now, and how much more pleasant he is now - perhaps because of it. 

He wipes the streak of blood from where he’d kissed Carlos to the side of his bottom lip, and much to Kevin’s delight, it smudges. 

“I knew you’d see it my way,” Kevin is smug, but genuinely gasps when Carlos reaches his hand up, bruising wrist and all, and pets Kevin’s cheek, his neck, and Carlos sees Kevin’s expression turn into wonderment as he pulls him down, gently and invitingly, and this time, Kevin follows the movements of Carlos’s kiss. 

The third time is the charm, and Carlos first checks to see if Kevin really is asleep this time. Slowly, without sound or quick movements, Carlos gingerly places the danger meter beside Kevin. It is significantly more restful than Carlos has seen it been for the past few hours, and so Carlos gradually retracts Kevin’s arms from him, keeping an eye towards any potential change in the meter or in Kevin’s face. 

Soon, he’s repeating walking off alone, away from his companion; this time, more hurt, more anxious. This time, no one is following him. 

 

* * *

 

[Image: An expansive desert, empty.]

Caption: Silly Carlos has gone missing :((((

[Image: The shadow of a man standing on the sand.] 

Caption: You could have at least tried to explain yourself one last time.

Inbox [1]

New post:

If we don’t belong there then we obviously belong with each other. youre not as observant as you made yourself out to be. 

Inbox [4]

[Image: A man with his face and teeth blurred in the foreground of a large landscape.]

Caption: Scavenger hunt

Inbox [5]

New post: You can see this, can’t you? 

You couldn’t even pretend, how pathetic.

New post:

We’ll see each other again soon. ♥♥♥

 

* * *

 

“Oh, Carlos…”

“He just roughed me up a bit.” He’s been speaking more quietly now, his voice hushed, because he can’t get over the possibility that he could be heard, and a desperate man with Cecil’s face will come and try to hold onto him again. He continues, fluidly; Cecil doesn’t have to wait. “I felt scared. And angry. He wants help but can’t accept anything offered other than what he thinks is best, but it was wrong. Cecil, I’m more scared of staying here than I was before. I’m scared I won’t be able to find a way to fashion a new door.” 

“We’ll help you, Carlos,” Cecil soothes despite sounding heartbroken through the other end of the line. “Don’t lose hope. Keep running and hide as best as you can.”

Carlos nods, “Mm,” closing and rubbing his eyes. It’s night again. “I was, actually, hoping that Kevin would change. He talked to me every time the sun went down about how glad he was to be away from Strexx that I thought…” 

Cecil doesn’t answer. Carlos knows he’s listening, though, and maybe declaring to himself, for the both of them, that in this scenario which necessitates Carlos to maintain hope, Kevin is the one factor for which hope is best left without. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> (Chapter titles from the lyrics of “Toy Soldiers” by Marianas Trench.)


End file.
